Child's Sacrafice
by Areku
Summary: Little Farfie plays his bloody games in his front yard. Very short...


  
  
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Child's Sacrifice  
By Areku  
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There is a child sitting in the grass. To a passive observer he appears to be playing a tranquil game with the grass and sticks, but on closer inspection you would realize just how wrong you are. The child is maliciously ripping up the grass and tossing it into the air. The green spray falls down over his white hair and hunched form, scattering over the ground.  
  
He laughs and stands up, running around the yard. He trips, over the root of a large tree that occupies one corner of the said yard, and falls face first to the ground. No tears or wails of pain come from him at this event; instead he smiles and examines the grass in front of him. Some insects crawl across the blades. He tilts his head and squints at them. Then with a single finger he squashes them, one by one.  
  
Growing tired of the bugs and the splattered organs, he combs the grass with his fingers pulling out all the sticks and stones. These are thrown against the side of the tree and fall around the root that tripped him.  
  
Then he moves on, picking up sticks and rocks. These all go into the pile next to the root. You dismiss it as a castle, a boy's fortress, once again you are wrong. This is his altar, to a god unknown to all. It is bare of sacrifice, because he cannot find one suitable among the insects of the yard.  
  
He crouches down in front of the 'castle' and pulls out one of the sticks. It is longer than the rest, and more sturdy. With great ceremony he raises it up above his head. It falters there, wandering, wavering, not sure how to proceed, or whether it should proceed.  
  
With determination he clasps it tighter, and brings it down hard on his other arm. Once he had landed the first blow it is impossible to stop. He maliciously rips and tears at the flesh on that arm, never flinching. He brakes through the surface of skin and continues on down, lodging pieces of bark and splinters along the way.  
  
When his arm bleeds he drops the stick, gazing at his handiwork. He holds the bloodied arm aloof over the altar, watching the liquid bunch and drip. His own blood the sacrifice.  
  
In front of this altar, he dances. Uncontrolled, wild, fully obsessed with the violent motions of his own creation. He stops suddenly, and stands perfectly still.  
  
"Jei time to come in."  
  
Yellow eyes dart up. Forgetting his sacrifice he runs to the woman who calls him. Forgetting his still bleeding arm he embraces her waist. He looks up at her with excited happy eyes.  
  
She notices the blood smeared on her dress and kneels down to his level to investigate. She gently takes his arms and turns them over. Her face goes pale as she looks on the bloody pulp. "What's this?" Her voice quavered.  
  
His eyes are alight as he looked at her. "I 'as playing 'priest' like you told me 'bout"  
  
She shows no sign of recognition.  
  
He scrunches up his face and continued, "'Member? They cut up their arms ans stuff so their god would listen to them. An' he didn't."  
  
She doesn't look pleased, but he doesn't notice.  
  
Now he looks smug, "So I thought he would listen to me."  
  
She stood up, taking his good hand, and leads him into the house. If you could get into her brain I'm sure she would be making a mental note to be more careful about what Bible stories she tells him next time.  
  
  
End  
  
  
  
AN Short, I know, but I had to write it. I read, the other day, in 1 Kings 18:20-40 about Elijah and the prophets of Bal. The account reminded me of Farfie, so I thought I should write it out before anyone else does.  
  
I know it's kind of strange to make an atheist play out what was a biblical story, but you've got to think about it. Ruth taught him, right? So at one time he probably believed what he was taught. Small children, being the imitative type, play out stories etc that they know or enjoy. Am I making sense? Farfello, having the name of the devil, fits perfectly as trying to be the devil's priest. Right?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Farfello, I did not write the Bible.  



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